Taken
by Anime Girl23
Summary: One second everything was fine. The next, Puck and Quinn had vanished without a trace. Now, held captive in a tiny room, victims of some mad men's delusions, all they have is each other if they want to survive. Puck/Quinn
1. Chapter 1

Hey, everyone! I started this fic last year, lost it, found it, and finished it finally. I'm going to try to keep to a more constant posting schedule than my blind!Puck verse had. The fic itself is only six chapters counting the epilogue, so I want to get it all up for you guys.

Reviews are always greatly appreciated. Even if it's something short. I'm weird with multi-chapter stories that I hate to post a new one if I don't have any reviews for a chapter.

**WARNINGS: **I completely raped medical science, does that count? Oh, and resulting mpreg (not slash).

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Taken  
>Chapter 1<p>

"I need to talk to you," Puck said, pulling on Quinn's arm. He dragged her away, out of the concert hall where the rest of New Directions were gathered after their twelfth place loss and out the back door. He didn't drop her arm until they were bathed in the New York summer sun.

"What?" Quinn snapped, arms crossed over the black dress the girls had worn for Nationals.

"What the hell is wrong with you? This whole year, you've managed to turn into an even worse bitch than you were before you got pregnant. You cheated on Sam and you played Finn like a fiddle for a crown you didn't even win. It's like you don't even care anymore. Go ahead and ignore me all you want. Whatever. But do you even remember anything from last year?"

"Of course I do-"

"Really? Because most of the time, it feels like you don't even remember who Beth is."

She slapped him, eyes ablaze. "Don't. Don't even think that I've forgotten her. I think about her every day, Puck! I carried her for months and giving her up _killed_ me, but I had to move on with my life."

"And acting like last year never happened is how you're doing it?"

"I can't think about her! What do you want me to say, Puck? That I regret giving her up? I wish I had her, but we couldn't have raised her! You ended up in juvie!"

"You think I would have done something that fucking stupid if we'd kept her?" Puck snapped.

"I don't know!" Quinn exclaimed, suddenly deflating a second later as her voice lowered to a whisper, "I don't know."

Puck sighed, running a hand over his head. He'd shaved the Mohawk off a month after Regionals. A couple people had asked why, but he'd never explained further than that he'd wanted a change. Honestly, he wasn't even sure. Maybe it was just time to grow up.

It all went to hell a second later.

Arms grabbed Quinn before Puck could even register they were there, pulling her back and away from him. A hand pressed a damp cloth over her mouth and nose as more hands did the same to her ex. She heard Puck struggling and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Then...nothing.

* * *

><p>She woke up, pillowed against Puck's chest, confused and lids heavy as she rubbed clumsily at her eyes. "What..."<p>

"I don't know," Puck said, sounding scared, though he tried to hide it. "I woke up as they were finishing the physicals. Knocked me out again. I only woke up a couple minutes ago."

"They-"

"Yeah."

Quinn shuddered in his hold, nauseous at the thought of having been stripped down and examined by whoever had taken them. Puck just tightened his grip on her. She drew her legs up, noticing only then that she was no longer in her dress. Both she and Puck had been changed into mint-colored medical scrubs that looked out of place in the room they were in.

The room was small. There was a stained mattress shoved in the corner with a dirty blanket and pillow. Three buckets sat in opposite corners. One was closer to the door and next to a tray of food. The second, Quinn assumed, was meant to be a toilet. She cringed at the thought. The third was half the size of the other two and had a wash cloth hanging from it. Their shower.

The windowless walls, she guessed, used to be white, but they were ruined now. Water damage stained the ceiling and plaster was falling off here and there. The walls were discolored in spots with things she didn't want to identify.

But it was the metal door she couldn't look away from. More specifically, the scratches on it, filled with rust and something she was pretty sure was dried blood.

Oh, God.

A sob ripped through her and she hid her face in Puck's chest. "They're going to kill us."

* * *

><p>They jumped when the lock unlatched hours later. Scrambled to their feet as Puck hid Quinn behind his back. Stiffened when two men walked in, ski masks on their faces and guns in their hands.<p>

Quinn squeezed Puck's arm in a silent plea to not do anything stupid and heroic. They'd kill him. She didn't want to be alone.

"Come on," the bigger one ordered, grabbing Puck's wrist. He pressed the barrel to Puck's back and nodded at his partner to do the same with a shaking Quinn.

They led them down the hall with cocked guns ready to shoot if they looked up from their feet. Pushed them into a dirty medical room where a third man stood in his own pair of dark scrubs. Unlike the others, he was unmasked, leaving his pale skin uncovered. Brown hair was pulled back into a scrub cap and matching eyes made Quinn's stomach flip.

Neither of them fought as they were pushed onto metal tables and strapped down.

"Please," she pleaded as their tops were cut away. "Please. My name is Quinn. He's Puck. We're only seventeen. We-"

"We aren't going to kill you," the doctor said, kind and crazed as he picked up a scalpel. "We're gonna make history."

* * *

><p>Her stomach felt like it was on fire.<p>

Quinn whimpered, blinking her eyes open. She was back in the room with the metal door.

Oh, God. Puck.

She wanted to spring to her feet, but the pain kept her flat on her back. She searched as far as she could without moving, eyes straining. Found him just barely in the corner of her eye, lying on the mattress. Fear gripped at her, terrified that he was dead. He was pale. So, _so_ pale.

"Puck," she whispered weakly. "Puck, wake up."

No reply came and she forced back the tears that wanted to fall. Lifted up her shirt with a soft hiss and gasped, horrified at the stitched up incision on her stomach. It was healing. Looked like it had been for days.

How long had she been unconscious and lying on this floor?

Did the others know she and Puck were gone?

Were they looking?

Were they close to finding them?

"Puck?"

She closed her eyes and prayed.

* * *

><p>Puck didn't wake up for days. Or, at least, Quinn thought it was days. She had no way of telling time in this room. No windows meant no sunlight, just the dirty florescent light that flickered occasionally. The men only brought food once every so often, but it was never consistent. They came in with meds, too, but they refused to tell her how often they were supposed to be taken. She'd refused them the first day, but they forced her to swallow them down as they injected something into Puck.<p>

By the time he did wake up, Quinn had healed enough that she could hobble painfully around the room. She still blushed, humiliated, any time she had to use the bucket.

When he finally groaned, Quinn thought she'd finally gone mad from the fear and silence. Dashed over as fast as she was able anyway and gripped his hand.

"Puck? Puck, wake up," she pleaded, eyes tearing as he groaned again and his eyelids fluttered. "Oh, God. Puck. Puck, I'm right here. Come on. Open your eyes. _Please_ open your eyes."

She covered her mouth with a hand when he did and brown eyes finally opened.

"Quinn?" Puck grunted, looking confused for a minute, like he didn't remember where he was or why she'd be with him. She knew the second the memories came back, watched as his face fell and caught the fear that flashed across his eyes before he hid it. "What happened?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "They did something to us. Surgery. I don't know what they did, but they keep giving us these meds and they won't tell me why."

"Why are you-"

"They made me the first time. It's not poison or anything. I've been feeling better," she said, just as confused as Puck looked. "I don't know what they're doing. I mean, I feel a little weird, like something's missing, but..." She shrugged. "I don't know, Puck. I just don't know."

The way he sagged against the thin pillow told her he didn't either.

TBC

PLEASE REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, everyone! See? I'm keeping up with posting! I think what I'm going to do is post every other day, so the next chapter will be up Wednesday!

As always, reviews are love! Even if they're short. I know this is a weird topic, so I'm excited to see more readers and reviews than I expected.

**WARNINGS:**The complete raping of medical science and mpreg (not slash).

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Taken  
>Chapter Two<p>

Quinn had kept a diary most of her life. By the time she left her preteens, she'd upgraded from the ones with locks to simple journals and notebooks. She'd filled up six over the course of her pregnancy, mostly back-and-forth wonderings on what to do and attempts at trying to make excuses for the lies. In this tiny room, though, she had no notebook. She didn't even have a pen. All she had was a dusty floor and her finger.

The floor was her diary. She'd write, dirtying the tip of her finger while Puck slept with only the light from the hanging bulb to help her see.

_I'm getting worried. Puck's still sick. Whatever they did to us, I've gotten better and healed up, but Puck is still weak. All he does most days is sleep. I can get him to walk a lap or two around the room sometimes, but he always looks like he's in pain. I know they operated on us, but... God, please don't let him die. I don't want to be here alone.  
><em>_I don't know how long we've been here, but it has to have been a month. At least. Maybe two? Three? I don't even know. If we were going to be found, wouldn't they have done it by now?  
><em>_What if they kill us? I don't even know what purpose we're supposed to be serving if all they do is have us sit here. They're still taking Puck to the medical room every so often, but they haven't taken me since I finished healing. I'd think they were trying to help him, but every time they come in here and realize he's thrown up, they look so happy. It scares me.  
><em>_It's like they want him to be sick.  
><em>_I try not to think about it too much, but the longer we're here, the less I can help it. I'm terrified. That they're going to kill us. That we'll never go home. That we'll die before we ever get a chance to see Beth again. Shelby said we could meet her when she turns eighteen if she wants. I want to be around for that and I know Puck does too. He wants to go home. His mom and Sarah are probably hysterical by now. His sister idolizes him. She needs her big brother.  
><em>_God, please, please let us go home._

Quinn stopped writing with a sob. Pressed dirty hands to an equally dirty face and cried, curled into a ball beside the mattress.

"Quinn?" Puck slurred, barely even half-awake.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, still crying softly as she swept away any hint of her writings with her hand and crawled up next to him. She curled into his chest, nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of their combined body odor. She knew they smelled. Their small bathing bucket only held enough water for one at a time and the pathetic sponge baths they had to settle for could only do so much. They hadn't had a real bath since the morning they were taken. The hair on her legs and underarms had grown in longer than she ever would have allowed it and her hair was greasy, hanging in disgusting bunches around her face. The hair on Puck's once-shaved head had grown in, looking like something akin to Cory Matthews. She played with the greasy curls sometimes when he'd lay his head in her lap.

She knew they looked disgusting. They _felt_ disgusting. Every time she caught her reflection in the water bucket, she'd cringe. They used the water to bathe when they could, but their captors only refilled it every so often. They needed it to drink and they were both too unwilling to waste their only source of hydration. Even if it meant that they couldn't clean themselves every day.

"We're gonna be okay," Puck murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Quinn nodded against his chest as a fresh wave of tears washed over her.

* * *

><p>He hated this. Hated that they'd been fucking kidnapped. Hated that these sick bastards had operated on them and did fuck-knows-what. Hated that Quinn had to be the one to take care of him. Hated that he couldn't do a damn thing to get them out.<p>

Quinn hid it well, but Puck knew that she was terrified. He'd always been able to read her, since the day they met, and he always knew when to call bullshit. He never voiced it, though. Not here. She was trying so hard to be strong that he couldn't bring himself to take it away from her. They needed all the strength they could muster in this place. They needed it if they were going to survive.

Survive. Get out of here. Go _home_.

Puck honestly wondered sometimes if he'd get that chance. Something wasn't right. He could feel it in his gut. Whatever these assholes had done to him, they did it on purpose. Whatever was making him sick was their doing and they fucking _liked_ it. He'd heard the excited muttering in the medical room more than once.

_"We've done it."_

_"We're gonna be famous."_

Famous fucking psychos.

He closed his eyes as he lay strapped down in the medical room. Opened them after a minute and blinked up at the ceiling. At least this room was clean.

Their captors never let him see whatever they were doing. Most days, they kept him blindfolded or just kept the machines turned away. Once, he'd managed to catch a glimpse of the date.

September.

These assholes took them at the beginning of June. It had to have been almost a month since he'd seen that. If it wasn't October yet, it probably almost was. Most of their friends were seniors now, applying to colleges and enjoying their last year together before everyone went off in different directions. They were carrying on with their lives while he and Quinn were here.

He wished he didn't hate them sometimes.

Hated himself any time the thought would flash across his mind that...why did it have to be them?

He tried not to pay attention as the good doctor started his examination. Ignored the other two that were practically bouncing in some kind of deranged excitement. Flinched at the gel that was squirted onto his bare stomach. He told himself to think of anything else. Home. Mom. Sarah. Quinn. Beth. Anything. Even if it hurt to think about them, it was better than trying to figure out what was going on. There was no making sense of these men's minds.

Just barely smirked when he thought about Ms. Pillsbury and if she had a pamphlet for this shit.

He doubted it.

The doctor started talking to his partners, words that Puck couldn't hope to understand spilling out of his mouth faster than Rachel when she'd start on about Broadway. He kept his gaze focused on the ceiling, determined not to look at them, but unable to deny the curiosity of maybe finding out just what the master plan was.

"So we've done it?" one of the men asked. "_Really_ done it? Finally?"

"The chances are getting better, yes," the doctor said. Puck could practically _hear_ the grin in his voice. "There are always chances that it could fail. It's a bit smaller than we'd like and we still have a while yet until it would be viable, but I think we've done it."

The second man whooped like Sarah used to do. "History, guys! We're gonna make _history_!"

The first guy hummed in agreement. "None of the others ever made it past the first trimester."

Tri-_what_?

Puck's eyes snapped to his and Quinn's kidnappers, wide and unblinking as the doctor turned to him.

"Would you like to see?" he asked, turning one of the machines so the screen would face Puck. On it was a paused image that...no...

No way.

No _fucking_ way.

That wasn't a-

"Congratulations," the doctor said, smiling widely. "You're pregnant."

TBC

PLEASE REVIEW!


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, everyone! See? I'm sticking to the posting schedule! Probably what bugs me most is that FFN won't let me use different fonts. On LiveJournal, I have Quinn's diary entries in a different font (Freestyle Script) and it helps to make it less confusing because flashbacks are in italics too. Sadly, though, FFN is stubborn and only lets you use one.

As always, reviews are love! I know you guys are out there! From nine reviews in the first chapter to two in the second? Even if it's something short, it's greatly appreciated!

**WARNINGS: **I have completely raped medical science. Also, mpreg (not slash).

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Taken  
>Chapter 3<p>

Quinn wasn't sure sometimes if time was dragging or flying. Some days, it felt like she'd just woken up in this nightmare and the fear erupted in her all over again, but others, she'd stare at the rusty, bloody door like it had been in her life for years.

She looked to her right, catching sight of a sleeping Puck. He still slept as much as ever, even more now as his stomach swelled with the growing baby.

The baby.

The idea alone still made her want to vomit.

Puck was pregnant.

_"Puck, please. You're scaring me. Say something."_

_"I'm pregnant."_

She'd frozen when the words left his mouth, one hand still gripping his wrist as he'd stared at the wall across the room, tears falling from unblinking eyes. She hadn't wanted to believe it any more than he did, but he told her about the image on the screen and she couldn't deny it as time went on and his stomach grew.

_This doesn't get easier. I barely sleep anymore, too terrified that something will go wrong while I do and that when I wake up, Puck will be dead. Even getting him to make a lap around the room is difficult now. We're lucky if he can make it half way. He's barely ever awake anymore and when he is, he doesn't move much. I can see his muscles disappearing, because of this place and because of the...baby.  
><em>_It's not right. It's not fair. Why us? Why try to do this with anyone? If we make it out of this alive, nothing will ever be the same. We'll never be the same. Therapy. Years and years of therapy.  
><em>_I hate them. These men. They're crazy.  
><em>_I don't want to die. I don't want Puck to die.  
><em>_I don't want to care about this baby, but I do. Puck doesn't say it, but I know he does too. I see him sometimes, the short moments that he's awake, I see him stare at his stomach and the way he touches it. It's the same way I held mine when I was pregnant. Like he wants to protect it. I want to, too. I don't know. Something about it. Maybe it's because we're all prisoners, but a part of me... I think a part of me loves it. I don't want to think about what will happen when or if it's born. After that, Puck and I will serve no purpose to these people.  
><em>_We'll be as good as dead.  
><em>_I try not to think about it, but his stomach keeps getting bigger and he keeps getting weaker. He's been getting chest pains. Even when he's asleep, I can see he's in pain and his hand goes over his heart like it hurts. His body isn't meant for this. I don't think it can take the strain.  
><em>_I keep praying that his heart just holds on.  
><em>_God, please. I've been praying to you for months and I've heard him whispering his own prayers. I don't know if this is supposed to be some kind of test, but I don't know how much longer we can hold on._

Quinn wiped a tear and swept the diary entry away. Then, she clasped her hands, curled up in a ball beside Puck, and prayed.

* * *

><p>No matter how much he slept, he always felt tired.<p>

Puck opened heavy lids, blinking sluggishly as he forced himself out of the sleepy darkness he'd been in for months. Used a weak hand to push his lengthening curls away from his forehead.

"Morning."

"Mornin'," he murmured. He pushed himself up with a grunt, shaking his head when Quinn reached out to help. "Gotta do something on my own, Q. Even if it's just sitting up."

She rolled her eyes at him, but let him move himself back until he could sit against the wall. "You okay?"

"Tired."

"Same old, same old, then?"

"Basically," he said, lifting his arm for her to slide under. She did, curling against his side as one hand entwined with his over his belly. The baby kicked and he grunted. "S'fucking weird."

"Yeah," Quinn hummed.

He rested his cheek against the top of her head, eyes focused on his stomach. The idea that he had a baby growing in there still fucking terrified him. He was a guy. He wasn't supposed to have babies like this. He was supposed to get girls pregnant, like he'd done with Quinn. That was normal. This wasn't.

He thought about everyone back home sometimes. What would they think if they saw Quinn and him now? Her taking care of him because he was pregnant and too damn weak to do anything. Both of them filthy, hair overgrown, and a full beard on him. What they wouldn't do for a razor and a warm shower.

Fuck. At this point, he'd take an ice bath if it meant getting clean.

He sighed, breath tickling the top of Quinn's hair and making her shiver. He wanted to go home. His mom and Sarah were probably nervous wrecks by now. They probably thought he was dead. To be honest, sometimes he wished he was. At least then he wouldn't be here, acting as an incubator to some sick fuckers' delusions.

Someone had mentioned to him once that they'd heard that the first pregnant man would get Disney Land or some bullshit like that. He really didn't think this is what Walt had had in mind. If it was, Sarah was never watching a fucking Disney movie ever again. Neither was the kid.

He frowned at that and the baby kicked again. Chances were that they'd cut the kid out of him and let him bleed to death. He'd probably never even get to hold it or find out if it was a boy or a girl. At their best guess, he was around five months. His stomach was their way of telling time now. As he got bigger, they'd compare it to the memory of what her stomach had looked like. It wasn't the best way since they were completely different situations, but it was the best they had.

As far as they could figure out, he'd finished his first trimester in late September or early October. That meant these assholes had kept them unconscious probably for almost a month, poking and prodding and cutting. _Fertilizing_.

Puck shuddered and glared at the scar that had formed across his stomach that poked out from under the bottom of his dirty scrub top.

If he was three months in October and he was five months now, that meant it had to be sometime in December. Their friends would be getting off on winter break soon, ready to celebrate the holidays with their families. His mom and Sarah would be celebrating Hanukah without him. This year, he and Sarah wouldn't be fighting about who lit the candles or playing Dreidel for chocolate money while his mom made latkes. He missed his mom's latkes. He missed kicking Sarah's ass at the game and getting her chocolate just to split it with her later so their mom didn't throw a spoon at his head.

Tears burned behind his eyes, but he pushed them back. He wouldn't cry. Quinn had enough on her shoulders without having to wipe his snot too. He couldn't do shit about his strength now with the baby, but if he could control his emotions enough that he could keep himself from falling apart, he'd do it. He did it as much for himself as he did for her, because if he fell apart...he didn't think he'd ever be able to put himself back together.

"You think they miss us?" she whispered against his chest.

"Who wouldn't?"

He was just happy he could still make her laugh. Even if it was only for a second.

TBC

PLEASE REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 4

Now, come on, guys. I know there are people reading and adding this to alerts and favorites! It doesn't take long to type something as simple as a smiley face. Seriously. Please review. They make me happy, motivate me to write, and this week has sucked.

Also, I've just realized that none of the line breaks were missing in the previous chapters. Not sure why, but I've gone back and fixed it. I apologize for any confusion.

**WARNINGS: **I have completely fucked with medical science. Mpreg (not slash).

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Taken  
>Chapter 4<p>

"Would you keep it?" Quinn asked, looking down at Puck while his head lay in her lap. "If we got out of here and the baby lived...would you?"

"Yes," he murmured without a thought.

Quinn nodded, unsurprised, as she kept carding her fingers through greasy curls.

"You ever think about whose it is?"

"Sometimes," she replied as her eyes moved to the stomach that they guessed put him at seven months and them sometime in February.

"Probably your eggs, but for all we know, one of those guys gave a donation."

Quinn grimaced. "Please don't _ever_ say that again. I don't want to think about my eggs being anywhere near their..." She shuddered.

Puck snorted. "Could be mine too."

"I wouldn't mind that," she said softly, meeting his gaze. He stared back up at her, mouthing her name as she bent down. She stopped an inch away from his lips, her eyes on his neck because of their angle. Gasped into the kiss when he closed the distance.

* * *

><p>"Britt?"<p>

Brittany looked behind her, smiling softly at Santana before she turned back to the window, head pillowed in her arms. It was snowing outside. Romantic. Perfect for Valentine's Day. Maybe she'd be able to get Santana to take a walk with her later. She could offer to warm up with a hot shower after.

Santana sat beside her on the couch, legs pulled up to her chest as she looked at the snow falling.

"You think we would have won Sectionals? If Puck and Quinn had been there?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," Santana said, head against the glass.

They hadn't even competed. When the new year started and Puck and Quinn were still missing, it hadn't felt right. Even if they'd managed to find the members. Lauren had left. Sam moved. They went from thirteen members to nine.

Someone—and she'd put her money on Finn or Rachel—had put a picture of Puck and Quinn on the piano on the first day of school. No one ever moved it, though Rachel did sing to it once.

They still had no idea what had happened. One second, they were there and the next, they weren't. The cops had found Quinn's headband somewhere outside, but no one ever came forward with any information and the trail went cold. People disappeared in New York all the time. By now, they were probably dead.

It sucked.

She and Quinn were never close, but she and Puck... She never loved him and he never loved her, but he gave a crap. He listened to her cry about Brittany when the blonde had chosen Artie. He let her stay at his place when her parents' fighting got too loud and things started getting thrown. Neither of them deserved any of this and their families didn't deserve to not know what happened.

Brittany grabbed her hand and squeezed, pushing Santana's legs apart so she could get in between and hug her. "We should give them a duet at the graduation performance."

"Brittany, they're not-"

"They're not dead, Santana," Brittany said firmly, eyes locked on the Latina's. "They're not."

Santana shook her head sadly and wished that Brittany was right.

* * *

><p><em>I'm not stupid. I know he's not okay. He puts on a face and he pretends that it's all fine, but he's wasting away. We're staying clean enough that he hasn't gotten sick, but the strain and the baby are wearing him out. His stomach keeps getting bigger, but the rest of him is just…disappearing. The proportions are just so wrong. I can't even guess where he is time-wise anymore.<br>__I heard the men yelling when he was asleep. Someone messed up. I don't know how, but they're scared. They think the cops might be close. One of them wants to run, but someone said it wasn't safe to move Puck at this point.  
><em>_Someone, please find us.  
><em>_We need to get out of here. He needs to be okay. The baby needs to be okay.  
><em>_I love them both too much to lose them._

* * *

><p>"Puck? What's wrong?" she asked, worried as she kneeled on the floor beside the mattress.<p>

Puck shook his head. "M'okay. Kid just kicked pretty hard."

Quinn didn't believe him and Puck knew it, but he wouldn't worry her even more than she already was. She didn't need to know the way his heart was racing or how his vision had blacked out for a few seconds when he sat up. There wasn't anything she could do anyway. He didn't want to chance her getting worried enough that she'd do something stupid and get herself killed. If by some crazy miracle they made it out of this alive, he wanted her to be next to him when they got home.

"I'm okay," he said, even as his world titled sideways.

Gunshots and screams woke them up. Puck sat up too fast and fell back down, dazed and nauseous as Quinn pulled him into a sitting position and moved in front of him. They were both shaking, flinching with every shot that rang through their prison.

Then she heard it.

"NYPD!"

She doubled over, hands over her mouth as a sob ripped through her. Ran to the door and started banging her fists against it. "IN HERE! WE'RE IN HERE!"

"Quinn, get over here!" Puck yelled at her, one hand on his belly.

"They won't hear us if I-"

"They're gonna search every fucking room. They'll find us. Scare them when they burst in here and they're gonna blow you away. Now get your ass over here!"

Quinn did, clutching Puck's hand as she kissed him, ignoring the bad breath the way they had for months. "We're going home."

Puck pressed his forehead against hers as they both looked at his stomach. "Yeah. Home."

The door opened with a bang and they both jumped. Quinn spun around, one hand still holding onto Puck's. The tears started flowing the second she saw the uniforms.

"Please," she whispered. "We..."

One of the cops holstered his gun and walked over to them slowly, palms showing. "It's okay. My name is Detective Riley Harper." He nodded towards the man standing behind him. "That's my partner, Detective Max Peterson. What's your name?"

"Q-Quinn. Quinn Fabray. He's Noah Puckerman. Please, he needs a hospital."

"Okay," Detective Harper said. "He'll be okay."

"He's pregnant."

In any other situation, the bewildered look that overtook both detectives' faces would have been funny, but here and now...

"He's pregnant," she said again. "They did something to us. They...look!" She spun to point at Puck, kneeling beside him again.

"Oh, my God..." Detective Peterson breathed, horrified.

Detective Harper didn't take his wide eyes off of Puck as he reached for his radio. "This is Harper. We need a bus. Tell the hospital to be on standby. We need an OB/GYN...and a surgeon. Make sure nobody's there that doesn't need to be there."

He clipped it back to his side and kneeled down beside the teens. "Noah, can you tell me how far along you are?"

"I don't know," Puck said, shaking his head. "They haven't told me anything. We don't know..."

"Puck? Look at me. What's wrong?"

"Q, I don't feel so good..."

"Puck? PUCK!"

TBC

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	5. Chapter 5

Now, there are the readers I knew were out there! Reviews are love! Just the epilogue is left to post and then this fic will be complete. Hard to believe I actually stuck to a posting schedule this time around. Don't forget to review!

**WARNINGS:** I've completely fucked with medical science. Also, mpreg (not slash).

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Taken  
>Chapter 5<p>

"Santana! Santana, wake up!" Brittany shouted, shaking the other girl's shoulder roughly.

"What?" she grumbled as she tried to bat Brittany's hand away.

"Finn called!"

"Congratulations. It's three in the morning. I'll kill him tomorrow."

"Puck's mom called him! They found them!"

Santana sprang up, eyes wide. "What?"

* * *

><p>It made sense now. The feeling she'd had when she'd woken up after her and Puck's "surgeries". She'd felt like something was missing, but she'd never given herself time to truly ponder on it. An emptiness she didn't understand took a backseat to everything else that happened. Now, though, she understood.<p>

The doctors pulled her and Puck apart the second they got to the hospital. He was rushed into surgery and she was led into a trauma room. One ultrasound later and she knew for sure.

They had cut out her uterus.

She'd never have children again.

In hindsight, she should have figured it out sooner. The emptiness. Puck's pregnancy. Her complete lack of a period. It didn't stop her from curling into a ball on the examination table and bursting into tears.

They'd taken it out of her and put it into Puck. She didn't know how or what they'd even connected it to and she didn't want to know. Beth would be the only child she ever carried inside her. She'd told herself that she'd get the chance one day to be pregnant again and truly be able to enjoy it.

Now, she'd never get that chance because of three wack jobs with a scalpel.

They'd taken away her chance to ever carry another child. They may have killed Puck. They may have killed an innocent child. They'd killed other people in their quest to make history.

Before that moment, Quinn Fabray had never so completely hated someone.

* * *

><p>"<em>Beth, I hear you calling, but I can't come home right now...<em>"

Quinn. He could hear her. Somewhere in the inky blackness, he could hear her as she sang Beth's song. The same song that had helped to keep them sane while they sat in their prison. A song and a promise that they'd get to see their little girl one day.

"_Me and the boys are playing and I just can't find the _—Puck? It's okay. Open your eyes. Come on," she urged, squeezing his hand and kissing his cheek.

The first blink hurt and the second only hurt a bit less. By the tenth, he realized that the ceiling above him wasn't stained and cracking. It had those weird ceiling tiles like the one in the bathroom at his Nana's. Those foam things that he always smacked for the hell of it once he was tall enough.

He frowned, confused, as he stared at it. He wasn't at his Nana's.

...Was he?

Quinn laughed softly and his eyes turned towards her. She looked the same, hair messy and knotted. Her scrubs were different, though. These ones were light blue instead of the same mint green they'd been wearing for fuck knows how long. He hated mint green now.

"You with us?" she asked, amused.

He hummed, nodding slightly.

"Sure? Because you said that the last three times and then you were out again."

"M'awake," he mumbled as the fog around his brain started to disappear. "What happened?"

"The cops found us," she said. "We're at the hospital. You passed out right after they showed up and they had to rush you into surgery."

"The kid-"

"Is okay. A bit underweight and premature, but okay. The doctors think she's somewhere around thirty-two weeks."

Thirty-two weeks. That was...fuck. Puck bit the inside of his cheek, eyes turning back to the ceiling as he tried to make his brain figure out the math.

"Eight months," she told him. "It's March fifteenth."

He nodded for a second and stopped as the other part of her sentence occurred to him. "She?"

Quinn smiled. "It's a girl. They're going to watch her for a while longer to make sure everything's okay, but considering the circumstances, it's kind of a miracle."

"Yeah," Puck murmured as his eyes turned to his stomach. It felt strange to look down and not see the swell that had been growing for months. He couldn't see the wound from the surgery (and fuck anyone that ever tried to put him under the knife again after this), but he could feel it beneath the hospital gown and bandages.

He hadn't really thought that this would happen. He'd hoped that they'd all make it out of there and prayed for some kind of rescue, but he hadn't thought it would actually happen.

Should have figured that thinking realistically was stupid when you were a pregnant guy.

"We're out," he whispered. A smile broke out on his face as tears gathered in his eyes.

"We're going home," Quinn said. "Our parents are on their way and-"

He kissed her. Pulled her down awkwardly and kissed her the second she was close enough.

"Your breath is shit," he told her when they broke apart.

"So is yours," she laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand.

"I've been unconscious. You have no excuse."

"I needed to know you were okay."

And fuck him if he didn't love her a bit more because of that.

"I am," he said. "Now, go shower. You smell."

* * *

><p>The shower felt amazing.<p>

Quinn didn't know how long she stood under the warm water, just relishing in the feeling of it beating down on her back. She washed her hair three times and her body five.

Just about cried when she ran the disposable razor up her leg and took away months of growth.

She rubbed smooth legs together until the tears came and she sank to the floor. Curled up in a ball and cried, because they were okay. They were going home. Maybe not for another few days or weeks because of the baby and Puck, but they were going home. Their family. Their friends. People they'd thought they'd never see again.

She and Puck would never be the same. She knew that. The events of the last months had changed them both and no matter how much everyone tried, the only people that would truly understand were the two of them. Chances were that this would haunt them both forever, but...they had each other.

Quinn rubbed her hands over her face, wiping away the water and tears as she got back to her feet.

She and Puck would get through this. If it was the last thing she did, she'd make sure that they did.

She loved him.

TBC

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	6. Epilogue

This is the end, everyone! The last and final chapter of Taken! I feel like posting this just flew. It's insane.

I know that Quinn's journal entry is a little bunched. It bugs the hell out of me, because on LiveJournal, I have her entries in a totally different font, so it looks cleaner, but FFN doesn't let you do that. And I'm weird enough that all her other entries were bunched together (so that they wouldn't get confused with flashbacks), so separating this now would probably end up making me twitch. So yes. I know it's bunched, probably annoying, and probably makes the chapter itself look really short.

As usual, please review. Especially now that it's complete, I'd love to know what you thought of the whole thing.

**WARNINGS:** I have completely fucked with medical science. Also, mpreg (not slash).

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Taken  
>Epilogue<p>

_I woke up this morning and I thought I was back there. It happens sometimes. Even five years later, Noah and I will have mornings where we wake up and we're convinced that when we open our eyes, we'll be back in our prison. Then, we realize that we're safe and that we're home and… I cry. I always cry. Sometimes with Noah and sometimes, I'm curled up on the floor of the shower. He runs until he's ready to collapse, like he's trying to reassure himself that he can and that he has that freedom.  
>Abby, bless her, never asks. She's young, but I think she understands that someone hurt her mommy and daddy. Maybe one day we'll tell her, about the kidnapping, about how she was really born. Maybe. If we do, it won't be until she's old enough to truly comprehend it. Right now, it's easier to just pretend that I carried her. As far as anyone outside a small group of people know, that's how she was born.<br>When we got back to Lima after Puck (because he was still Puck then) and Abby were safe to travel, we thought about telling our friends, but in the end, we never could. We couldn't stand the thought of them looking at us like we were some kind of freaks like the rest of the school did when we tried to go back. No one knew how to talk to us and we finally gave up and got our GEDs instead.  
>None of them could understand what we'd gone through during those months. The fear of wondering if or when we were going to die, of watching Puck deteriorate because of a baby he shouldn't have been carrying. Our baby. Our Abby.<br>We got the DNA test before we went home. With her conception, the doctors wanted to cover all the bases just in case. She was ours. My eggs. His sperm. Our best guess was that they'd fertilized the egg during the time we were unconscious. Before or after the surgery, I don't know. We try not to think about it too much.  
>After we got back to Lima, our only goal was to move on and raise our daughter. People still whisper sometimes, but we ignore it as best we can. It was part of choosing to stay here, to be around people that knew us and who only knew what rumors or their own imaginations thought up. We only stayed to be with our families. We'd been away from them for too long and Lima Loser or not, this town is our home.<br>This is where we grew up. It's where we dreamed about going back to. It's where we wanted to raise Abby, surrounded by friends that never questioned how she came around. It's where we want to be if Beth ever wants to meet us one day. Our other baby.  
>It still hurts to think that we'll never make another. I really had dreamed of being able to truly enjoy a pregnancy when I was ready one day, but that will never happen. I hate those men for taking that from us and I know Noah does too. He jokes around about how we're not spending money on condoms or birth control, but I can see the way his eyes get after. Like he'd give anything to have that chance again.<br>Just another thing we try not to think about.  
>There are times I wish that our kidnappers were still alive, that the cops hadn't shot them down when they found us. I just want to understand why. Was killing six people before us worth an insane experiment? Did they even feel any remorse at all? Did they care that Noah and I will be haunted by this for the rest of our lives?<br>Somehow, I don't think they'd care and that just makes me hate them more.  
>A part of me feels a sick sense of gratitude too, though. If they hadn't done what they did, if they hadn't taken us, we wouldn't have Abby.<br>I love my daughter, no matter how she came to exist. I love my husband for getting through this with me and for being the only one that could understand.  
>I don't know what I'd do without them.<em>

"Mommy! Come on!" Abby cried as she came rushing into her parents' bedroom. She tugged at Quinn's dress, jumping excitedly in her birthday dress and plastic crown. "Daddy says everyone's gonna be here soon! The party!"

Quinn smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. "I'll be there in a second, okay? Go make sure your daddy isn't ruining his dinner with the chips."

"'Kay!"

She watched her daughter run from the room, laughing softly when she heard Abby yell at Noah to drop the snack. Her eyes turned back to her journal, scanning her entry without reading the words. She closed it with a nod, sliding it into the top drawer of her desk and locking it when it was shut. The key went back onto the highest shelf on the wall.

"Done writing?" Noah asked, stepping into the room. He walked up behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, and propped his chin on her shoulder.

She nodded, turning in his hold and running her hands over his shaved head. Kissed him once on the lips and again on his jaw before she put her face against his neck.

"One day at a time, right?" he asked and his fingers carded through her hair.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"People are here!" Abby called as the doorbell rang and they heard Finn's voice come from outside. They heard the door open and their daughter's squeal and Finn's exaggerated grunt as he lifted her into his arms.

"I love you," she told him as they pulled apart and interlocked their fingers instead.

"I know," he said with a squeeze. "I love you, too." The doorbell rang again and he gave her arm a pull. "Come on. Time to face the crowd."

She cast a quick glance back at her top drawer, knowing that it wouldn't be the last time she wrote in it and nor would it be the last time she woke up like that, but it was like Puck said. One day at a time.

"Q! Puckerman! You two had better not be fu-"

"Santana!"

"It scares me that she teaches kindergarten," Puck said, shaking his head.

Quinn laughed and pulled him into the hallway.

The End

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